From my breast the cold heart taking,
Give it to Belerma's care
Initially, I would have hated the term ‘Kid‘ being slung at me so casually. The word has no distinction, lacks even the ability to coin my gender, and seems harsh in its delivery. “I’m not some kid-” I begin to protest, my stoneflint gaze rising with instinctual defense and mistrust, but when they come to rest on the stranger’s face I can do little besides stare. Had I truly thought myself capable of offending such a creature? David himself gazes back at me, hewn from pied marble. Child that I am, beauty and lust should be of no consequence to me but here they are, warring inside of my narrow breast as he waits for my reply.
“I’m an orphan.” I breath at last.
It simply should not be; this scene of a vagabond stallion and a lonely female child is nothing if not seemingly dangerous and yet … the mannerisms of his person, the narcissus quality of his appearance, even the smooth tenor of his voice all persuade me into believing I would never close my eyes again without drawing the shape of his lovely face to mind. “How can such beauty exist in a world so hideous?” I wonder.
“I don’t know the way.” I admit with crushing defeat. The one task given to me by a possible ray of hope and I (useless thing that I am) can’t even tell North from South. There’s a chance still, if I play my cards right - if I can raise my head just so, with the tilt of my delicate chin; or if I can round my stormy eyes with unspoken pain and tremble like the frailest of exotic birds perhaps … perhaps …
“Maybe together we could figure it out, though?” I prompt, and the blush of a rose spreads like ink across my once-gray coat. “It can’t be all that hard … what’s your name? Especially if you’re asking a kid for help.”
Rey
